


Barfight

by BombshellKell



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombshellKell/pseuds/BombshellKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt knows he doesn't have the brawn to save anybody from a fight, but he'll sure as hell try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barfight

**Author's Note:**

> Request from Tumblr user kaiju-mittons: a fic based on a gifset I'd reblogged where it looked like the two of them were talking in a bar.

Newt wasn’t sure if they were giving the guy trouble or not; from where he sat at the bar, it looked like the other man was handling himself pretty well. The guys hassling him were a bunch of dumb-looking Americans, and the guy getting picked on very clearly didn’t learn English from American speakers; when he talked back to them, it was with a crisp English accent. He was sitting at a table with an open laptop, and Newt wondered why he was in a bar with his laptop instead of at home. It was weird to see a guy just sitting around, not even having anything alcoholic to drink. 

“Who comes into a bar and orders an actual iced tea?” one of the guys was saying, snorting as he observed the man’s beverage of choice. “Not even a Long Island iced tea. Just tea.” 

“Someone who would rather not vomit on the side of the street, or faint on a park bench somewhere,” the man said with a sniff. The Americans were laughing, both at his accent and his words. 

“Why not just go to a coffee shop, then?” one of them snorted. Newt was beginning to think they knew him, perhaps from school or work. They were acting much too familiar toward him to be strangers. 

“Coffee shops aren’t open this late.” The man rolled his eyes, clearly trying to suppress an intense urge to tell them how stupid he thought they really were. “I do my best thinking at night.” 

“Oh, well, excuse me.” The other men laughed, but didn’t seem to want to relent much. “Come on, we’ll buy you a drink if you do the sixteen equations we got assigned today.” 

“I’m not going to do your homework for you. And I’m not having a drink.” 

Newt stopped paying attention around then, figuring they were friends just giving each other shit. He ordered another drink and talked to the bartender for a while about the potential Godzilla remake, despite the fact that the bartender really didn’t seem that interested whatsoever. Once he’d finished the second drink, he looked back at where the man had been sitting, he was gone, and Newt thought he must have just gotten fed up with his friends harassing him and packed up and left. 

But when he stepped out of the bar, he heard a ruckus coming from the alley off to the side. He already knew what was going on long before he looked around the corner, seeing the man from inside getting his ass kicked by his so-called friends. It appeared to be a rather one-sided fight; the man was on the ground, curled up with his head covered, and his friends were doing mostly kicking. 

“Hey!” Newt yelled, and they all looked up like frightened animals, before seeing Newt’s height and stature. They started laughing, and ignored him, but Newt wasn’t going to give up that easy. Maybe it was stupid, but he wasn’t just going to let them beat the poor guy up. He grabbed one of the guys’ arms, and got hit in the face with the back of his hand, crashing down to the ground next to the poor beaten-up man. 

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, his accent lilting. “But I don’t particularly think you’re the man for the job.” 

“Yeah, starting to realize that,” Newt said, helping the other man to his feet along with him and starting to run, half pulling and half dragging the guy behind him. “I’m Newt, by the way,” he added breathlessly, as they ran around the corner onto the sidewalk. 

“Hermann,” the man told him. “Do you happen to know anywhere else open this time of night? Somewhere a bit safer, perhaps?” 

“There’s a restaurant three blocks away,” Newt panted, hearing the footsteps behind them start to fade as the other guys gave up. “Open til midnight.” 

“That sounds perfect.” They screeched to a halt in front of the restaurant door, and Newt hauled it open. The hostess standing inside jumped back when she saw how hurried they were, but when Newt glanced behind them, he saw that the other men were no longer following them. 

“I think we lost them,” he sighed as soon as the hostess sat them in a booth. 

“They’ll be back for me tomorrow, during class,” Hermann sighed, picking up the menu. “I’ll buy us dinner, to apologize for dragging you into this.” 

Newt looked up from the menu at Hermann’s face, cringing. “Oh, you... got a black eye there.” The skin around his eye was mottled and purple, especially close to his eyelid, though at least it didn’t seem to be swollen. Hermann shrugged as if he was used to it.

“It hardly matters.” 

“Nah, it totally matters. And I can pay for my own food, too. It’s cool.” Newt smiled at him, and Hermann actually smiled back, even if it looked a little weird on his face. He had one of those faces that looked as if it should constantly be scowling. Newt felt a little proud that he’d encouraged a smile from it.

“So,” he said, in stereotypical romantic comedy fashion. “Tell me about yourself.” 

Hermann frowned, obviously not used to being asked about himself, or anyone caring what he had to say. But it only took a moment for him to get used to the idea of sharing, and he was blathering away in no time.


End file.
